TW: #slash/MM, #omegaverse, #knotting, #heatcycle, #pwp, #oneshot

The lobby of Abernathy Marketing Enterprise—AME, as it was known for short—was a masterpiece of modern design. Large, floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in natural light, illuminating sleek, minimalist furniture that exuded sophistication. A large logo adorned one wall, symbolizing prestige and success. Soft instrumental music played in the background, contrasting with my own inner excitement as I stepped further into the space, a hand pressed reverently to my mouth. I could not fucking believe it—I couldn't believe that I was here. Finally. I had literally arrived. This was it.

I had been dreaming of this day for so long. I had graduated just two years prior previously with a large amount of student debt … and a hellbent determination not to fail. Everyone had told me that I was batshit insane for not only pursuing a Marketing degree, but a Master's in Marketing right out of the fucking gate. Since our secondary gender was often seen as being better suited for tasks that require empathy and nurturing, omegas were often pigeonholed into supportive or administrative roles. This was an idea that my parents had subscribed to but not me. I had been determined to do the opposite and it was that same sense of bratty determination had carried me right through a grueling internship where I had basically been a glorified errand boy.

Since graduating, I had cycled through a series of shitty low-level Marketing positions that were designed to make post-graduates question themselves and put everything that I had learned to the test. At first I had been scared shitless and had thoughts like did I actually like Marketing? Was I even good at it? Or was I, in fact, fucking batshit insane? But rather than think about it overly hard, I had instead bolstered a fuck-you resolve to all of my non-supporters—including myself—and found out that yes, I did like it and hell yes, I was good.

Good enough to jump from my shitty post-graduate job to a less shitty job, then to a job at Valentin Marketing Agency, a mid-level Marketing firm that I had chosen to remain at because it was only slightly shitty. Throughout the years, no matter how shitty it had been, I had made it a point to hone every skill I thought could serve me: proficiency in analyzing market trends, consumer data, and campaign performance metrics, to drive strategic decisions and optimize Marketing efforts.

Supervisors couldn't help but to notice my strong creative thinking abilities—after all, they were evidenced by innovative campaign concepts, unique approaches to problem-solving and of course my contributions to creative brainstorming sessions. And no one could deny my excellent written and verbal communication skills. I was a fucking machine when it came to presenting ideas persuasively, interacting with clients, and collaborating with internal teams.

Not only had my only slighty shitty mid-level job at VMS allowed me to cut my teeth on the world of Marketing, but it had opened the door of oppportunity for me to attend the Global Marketing Summit, a rather prestigious conference where I had sat and watched Quinn Abernathy, CEO and founder of Abernathy Marketing Enterprise, give a keynote speech—"Innovative Storytelling: Crafting Narratives That Capture Hearts and Minds"—and I had decided then and there that I wanted to work for him.

The man was an industry leader. He had literally shaped the future of Marketing—hell, was still shaping it. Ask anything in the Marketing world and they would tell you. They might not like it, but it was the truth. I knew from extensive research. And Quinn didn't know it yet, but he was going to offer me a job. Today. Or soon. I was going to fucking shine in this interview . I stood on the precipice of it, practically salivating at the idea of all my hard work paying off. The entire trajectory of my life could change, landing a job like this. I could imagined the look on my parents' faces when I told them. My dad giving a stoic but grudgingly appreciative nod, my mom forcing a smile—

A dainty, manicured hand waved in front of my face, bringing my fanatic musings to a halt. I blinked and realized with no small amount of mortification that I had been standing in the center of the lobby, daydreaming. The receptionist had come out from behind the sleek reception desk, trying to gain my attention. God, how long had I been standing there?

"Are you okay, sir?" she asked, studying me with a bemused expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just—it's all so amazing, you know? I've never—this is my first—" I found myself stammering an explanation but I realized how completely and embarrassingly fangirlish I sounded and snapped my mouth shut. Get it together! Jesus fucking Christ. You're going to blow it …

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my hands down over my outfit and nodded at her. "I'm Shiloh Fairfield. I have an interview with Laura at 9am."

Luckily, the receptionist responded with a laugh, waving away my apology. "Welcome to Abernathy Marketing Enterprise, Mr. Fairfield. I assure you, we're happy to have you. Your enthusiasm bodes well." Something akin to a smirk pulled at the corners of her glossy mouth. As if she knew something I didn't? I had only the briefest of seconds to wonder about it before she was winking at me, her friendly smile and reassuring tone soothing my nerves. "I'll show you to the interview room. Follow me right this way …"

I nodded, falling in line behind her. My excitement pulsed with every step as she walked me through corridors adorned with tasteful artwork that hinted at AME's creative spirit and industry expertise. As if I wasn't already aware. I noted every framed accolade and campaign highlight. Throughout the workspaces, I could see that cutting-edge technology was incorporated, including state-of-the-art multimedia systems in meeting rooms, digital displays showcasing campaign analytics or client successes, and ergonomic workstations equipped with the latest software tools.

Passing by a gleaming bar, the receptionist paused. "Would you like anything to drink while you wait? We have freshly brewed coffee, including espresso, cappuccino, latte, and regular drip coffee. If you like tea, we have an excellent selection of herbal teas, black teas, green teas, and flavored teas .. oh, and if you prefer a sweet treat, there's hot chocolate. Made-to-order."

I wordlessly shook my head, more in awe than actual response and she laughed, her eyes sparkling visibly with amusement. "That's just the hot beverages. Here at AME, we cater to the needs and preferences of our guests and employees. You'll know if you get the job because they'll give you the full brochure on how we prioritize employee well-being here. We even have a wellness room and a fitness facility to support a healthy work-life balance."

I felt positively flushed beneath my dress shirt. Again, I had to tell myself to get a fucking grip. This was a top-tier Marketing firm, not the mid-level mediocrity with the basic amenities I was used to—of course you could get a fucking made-to-order hot chocolate here. "Water with ice would be fantastic," I admitted. She nodded.

"No problem!"

Within seconds, my request had been met and I wrapped my fingers around the cup, its chill seeping into my palms. I really hoped I wasn't sweating visibly. If I was, she didn't mention it as she finally led me into the interview waiting room. It was tastefully decorated with modern furnishings and subtle corporate branding, with soft ambient lighting enhancing the warm and welcoming atmosphere. Plush sofas and chairs hosted other interview candidates who, like me, seemed to be radiate a palpable sense of nervous energy and anticipation as they waited. I was pleased to see that there weren't that many of us—three others besides myself.

"Okay, Mr. Fairfield. Just wait here. You'll receive a text when it's your turn," the receptionist said, wiggling her fingers at me. As I stepped in, she stepped back, closing the door behind her. "Good luck!"

I thanked her and went to take a seat, choosing one that put me in direct line of the door to the interview room. As I moved, I took note of the tasteful decor-neutral notes, the elegant artwork and the plush area rug that tied the seating area together. I settled into the colorful accent chair, carefully placing my cup of ice water on a side table. My fingers brushed over a Marketing magazine and I stared at it for a moment but didn't really see it—my brain was buzzing with anticipation and nerves. I shifted in place, moving my hands to my tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt, and carefully chosen tie—did I look okay? Was I sweating?

No. I wasn't. But I felt .. hot. Warmth was creeping up my neck, twisting in my stomach. God, I was nervous.

A glance around the room at the other candidates confirmed that they must've felt the same way, one biting their thumbnail viciously as they doomscrolled on their phone, another with their eyes shut as if praying. I withdrew my iPad from my pink messenger bag—yes, pink—and pulled up my portfolio, deciding that going over my notes for the millionth time would soothe my own anxiety.

Remember to highlight your work on the Jenson account, I reminded myself. Show them how you increased their social media engagement by 35%! Oooh, and don't forget to mention the award you won for the 'Best Emerging Marketer'!

I wondered if weaving in my own personal story would be a good touch—hard-working omega deviating from the social norm, climbing the corporate ladder with a passion for Marketing that had begun in college, to show others that anyone could do it regardless of their gender. AME was as known for their progressive stance in the corporate world as they were for their Marketing prowess, so maybe?

Or I could talk about how I had admired the company from afar. How I had first heard Quinn Abernathy speak and been absolutely ignited with a deeper love for Marketing than I had ever thought possible. Would they like that? Or would it be too much?

"Creative problem-solving … data-driven strategies … strong teamwork skills .." I chanted to myself. "I have a genuine passion for Marketing and a deep interest in understanding consumer behavior, emerging trends, and industry developments."

My thoughts escalated, swirling around the dream of getting hired on the spot. We'd like to offer you the position right now, Shiloh, Laura would say, beaming at me. How incredible would that be? Walking out of here with a job offer from my dream job. No more micromanagement, no more feeling stifled under Valentin's conservative Marketing approach. Instead I would come to work here everyday and enjoy made-to-order hot chocolate as a Senior Marketing Strategist. The job title alone was enough to make me want to squirm in my seat. I would manage high-stakes projects, working with high-profile clients and fucking global brands.

The door to the interview room opened, jolting me out of my daydream so badly I almost dropped my iPad. I slid it back into my messenger bag and sat up straight, watching a candidate exit. The expression on their face was one of relief and exhaustion, as if they were glad to escape. I had only the briefest moment to wonder why, when my phone buzzed in my pocket and my watch gave a corresponding vibration against my skin, letting me know I had received a text message. My heart skipped several beats—was this it?

Glancing at my watch confirmed it. From an unknown number : Mr. Fairfield, it is your turn. Please enter the interview room.

This was it. Fuck. Fuck. I grip my messenger bag in hands that feel sweaty but aren't and push the strange feeling out of my mind as I stand up, glancing over myself once last time to make sure my outfit is as impeccable as possible. Time to shine, I thought to myself and steeled myself for the interview of my life.

The door clicked shut behind me, the small sound echoing with a strange note of finality. Polished hardwood floors continued under my feet, framed by neutrally colored walls and large glass windows on the opposite side of the room.

Casting my gaze across the expansive room, I expected to see the mousy beta woman called Laura who I had been corresponding back and forth with about the interview for the past two weeks. Instead, sitting behind a sleek, modern desk with his hands folded in front of him was a fit man in his mid-to-late twenties, with tousled dark hair and green eyes that pierced me even from across the room.

An alpha. And the same man who I had seen in countless articles. I froze at the sight of him, my previously whirring mind going completely blank. What the fuck?

Kalix Abernathy. The Chief Operations Officer of Abernathy Marketing Enterprise. The only son of Quinn Abernathy. I knew as much about him as I did about Quinn—a twenty-eight year old no-nonsense type and a veritable shark in the Marketing world. He had gotten his MBA in Business Administration overseas and graduated with distinction, immediately segueing into a position at a high-ranking consulting firm before being employed at AME. Like his father, his reputation preceded him and none of it was exactly comforting in this moment. Where Quinn was largely regarded as smooth and charismatic, Kalix was known to be cutting and ruthlessly efficient.

That sharp jawline, the way his dark hair was styled just right, and those piercing eyes … green, like a hawk's. I had seen his photos before, but seeing him in person, he had this commanding presence that made it hard to look away. It was like he had some kind of magnetic aura around him. Fuck. He was going to be the one interviewing me? Now I understood why the guy before me had looked like he'd been happy as shit to be leaving. Where was Laura, the hiring manager?

As if he could read my thoughts, Kalix addressed my confusion. "Laura was fired this morning for incompetence." His voice was smooth yet sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk. "Come and sit."

His presence ignited my nerves from earlier in a whole new way, like gasoline on a fire. I tried to tune out the way my heart had started to slam in my chest as I moved quickly to take the seat on the opposite side of the sleek executive desk, clutching the strap of my messenger bag. Belatedly I realized that I had left my water out in the waiting room and I licked my lips, feeling how dry they had gotten. God, I was thirsty. And hot. Fuck, I was so hot. The hot feeling shimmered under my skin and I resisted the urge to palm the back of my neck, instead focusing my attention on Kalix.

He met my gaze and I felt my mouth go dry. Belatedly I realized that I had left my water out in the waiting room and I licked my lips. God, I was thirsty.

"Shiloh Fairfield. Twenty-four. Omega. Got your MBA some years ago. Accomplished some stuff. Currently a Marketing manager for Valentin. Tell me, Shiloh, why should we invest in you?" There was no preamble, no introduction. He expected me to know who he was.

"Mr. Abernathy, working at AME has been a dream of mine because of its reputation for excellence and innovation in the Marketing world. I believe I can bring a fresh perspective and creative strategies that align with the company's vision. My experience at my previous firm has equipped me with skills in campaign management, client relations, and data-driven Marketing approaches," I responded.

If Kalix could tell I had practiced those words, I couldn't tell. Instead he seemed to listen intently, his expression unreadable. "Interesting. And how do you handle working under pressure? AME demands perfection and quick thinking. Can you deliver that consistently?"

The hot feeling got worse as he stared at me. He was really, really handsome. Under different circumstances, I would've been attracted to him. I was sort of attracted to him now—okay, to be fair, I was just as much a fan of him as I was Quinn—but this was so not the time or place to be thinking about that. I needed to impress him. I licked my lips again, gazing back at him. "I thrive under pressure. In fact, some of my best work has come from high-stakes situations. I believe that staying calm, assessing the situation, and making informed decisions are key to handling pressure effectively."

Kalix leaned back slightly in his chair, studying me with a critical eye. Something flickered at the edges of his expression. A smile? "Tell me about a time when you faced a significant challenge in a Marketing campaign and how you overcame it."

I nodded, launching into a detailed account of a campaign that nearly failed due to unexpected market shifts. As I explained how I adapted the strategy, I found my eyes drifting to Kalix's mouth. The way he pressed his lips together, the curve of his smile—it had been a smile, but why?—it was incredibly distracting. And the way he watched me. God.

Focus, Shiloh, focus.

As Kalix continued to fix his piercing gaze on me, the room seemed to close in around me. The slick, modern furniture and understated elegance of the space were all but forgotten in the face of the alpha's intense scrutiny. My palms were sweaty, and I could feel my heart racing as Kalix's eyes traced over me, making my already heightened senses even more acute.

Kalix, seated behind his desk, seemed completely in control. His posture was relaxed, but he studied me with an almost predatory air. Did he know? Did he know what effect he was having on me? Fuck.

The air felt … thick.

"Tell me about a time when you had to confront a deeply personal challenge that threatened your professional goals."

What? My mind went blank. This wasn't an question I had prepared for. That should've been fine but for some reason, it wasn't. I couldn't think of an answer. My breath caught in my throat and I tried to focus, but I couldn't. I couldn't focus. I felt every ounce of the composure that I had come into the room with disintegrate as hot fuck I'm hot pulsed through me, making my cheeks flush.

"I... I—" I started, but my voice faltered. My mouth was bone-dry and I couldn't form a single coherent word. What was happening to me? Again, I tried desperately to gather my thoughts, but my gaze kept drifting to Kalix's mouth, the way the alpha's eyes seemed to darken with interest. I couldn't fucking concentrate. Instead I fidgeted in my seat, swallowing hard.

I could tell Kalix noticed the shift immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing smile curling at the corners of his lips as he took in my visible discomfort. He was fucking amused. The bastard.

Kalix leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. "Seems like that question caught you off guard," he said, his voice smooth and taunting. "Why don't you take a moment to collect yourself? This interview is meant to be a conversation, after all."

His tone was casual, but there was an edge of deliberate provocation in his words.

I searched for the right answer to his question, the one I had rehearsed, and couldn't find it. My thoughts were a whirlwind of embarrassment and confusion. I had never felt so exposed and vulnerable. I wanted to scream internally, but my primal urges were taking over, making it hard to focus on anything other than Kalix and the intense, almost unbearable attraction I was feeling. I became aware of a wet sensation, slick oozing between my legs in a terrible flood.

My body felt like it was on fire. God, I wanted to fuck. I wanted him to fuck me.

My body was betraying me. I knew what it was now, what it had to be, the reason why I had been feeling all hot and flushed in the waiting room.

I was in heat. But how?

This isn't how I planned this to go. I need to control this. I need to—

How the fuck am I in heat?

Omegas were taught about estrus in school like females were taught about menstrual cycles — it was a natural biological function, a period for us during which the body primed itself for reproduction. I had never actually experienced a heat before. As soon as I had hit puberty, my fretful parents had placed me on heat suppressants, medicines designed to suppress the pheromones that triggered the reproductive signals. I had never gone off them from that point on, not even to "see", since it had been engrained in me that it wasn't a pleasant experience to be in heat.

Bad things happened to omegas who didn't take their heat suppressants … like triggering an alpha's rut and finding yourself in a mating frenzy, risking getting pregnant by a stranger or worse, someone you knew. I had heard horror stories about omegas skipping their heat suppressants and accidentally fucking their relatives.

That being said, I always took mine. The same ones, every day, twice a day, without fail. I refused to lose control over my primal nature and let myself be perceived as a "slutty omega". The only omegas who went through estrus were the ones who were mated to an appropriate partner who could safely take care of them throughout it.

But I didn't want a mate. I wanted this job. I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything else. This was what I had worked so hard for ..

.. But I also wanted the alpha to fuck me.

Not just wanted. That was what I needed. A strong, powerful alpha to fuck me throughout my heat. Like Kalix Abernathy. The idea was crazy but rational thinking was drifting further and further away. My hole twitched, spasmed, producing more slick in wanton anticipation. A desperate whimper clawed its way out of my throat and I thoughtlessly pressed the heel of my hand against my cock, thrusting into the contact through the material of my trousers. It felt good. But not good enough.

Remembering where I was suddenly, my eyes snapped back to Kalix and I didn't even have the decency anymore to feel embarrassed, knowing that he had seen me touch myself. He stared back at me with such intensity I started pulling at my clothes, desperate to get them off my body before they suffocated me under his hot gaze. I felt like I was fucking overheating. I was going to die.

"You're in heat," he said slowly, with a hint of—wonder? His gaze had narrowed on me, his lips parting slightly. He drew in a breath and I watched his lids flutter. He was scenting me. A frisson of fear licked through me, delicious and .. hot. So fucking hot. I wondered if he had ever experienced a rut before. I wondered if I was going to trigger his.

When Kalix opened his eyes fully again, his pupils are blown wide. A part of me braces myself against a vision of him launching himself over the desk at me. But to my surprise—and disappointment—he doesn't move, except to twist his mouth in a faint smirk, eyeing me heavily. "I haven't even hired you and you're already breaking company policy."

"I don't even understand how this is happening." I felt myself flush at his admonishing tone, my voice a breathless whine as I struggled with my clothes. "I'm on suppressants—I took them today—and last night—I shouldn't be—I've never—fuck—"

You should leave, a voice came in my head. Leave right now and go home before you embarrass yourself anymore. But the idea of leaving, the long journey home—running past the other candidates, the receptionist, calling a cab—sounded impossible. The thing I wanted to do least, when there was an alpha here. He could … he could …

"Take off your clothes," he instructed me in a commanding tone, cutting through my thoughts. He was loosening his tie. I didn't think twice, mirroring him : my fingers reaching to unknot my own tie, the one that I had carefully chosen just hours prior. I yanked it from around my neck without so much as a shred of care. I tore my shoes off my feet, unbuckled my trousers and pushed them down around my ankles, pulling my legs free of the expensive fabric. In the subsequent rough discard of my underwear, my cock bobbed wildly to slap against my stomach, weeping profusely at the tip.

Then I started trying to work the buttons that held my shirt together. That proved more difficult, much to my frustration, as it required more coordination than my shaking hands possessed. I wanted to shove my fingers inside my wetness and let Kalix watch as I—

"Ah ah ah," Kalix scolded as I reached down. "I said take off your clothes, not touch yourself."

I snatched my hand back, replacing it on the fucking shirt buttons. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, scalding and helpless. All the desperation and hunger swelled inside of me, threatening a fever-pitch. What the fuck was happening? What had I become?

While I tried to focus on the task I'd been given, Kalix pushed back from the desk and stood up, stalking around to a miniature fridge that hummed faintly in the corner. Thanks to a table with long legs, he didn't have to bend over to open it and take something from inside. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he moved past me, towards the door.

The irrational fear that he was leaving spiked in my ribcage for the briefest of moments but it was soothed when he only locked the door. I didn't wonder why, didn't care, still struggling with the buttons he'd told me to undo. Fuuuuck. Why had I even bothered with clothes this morning? Why did clothes even exist, when I was burning up like this? I started clawing at them frantically, certain that I was going to explode if I didn't free myself of the confines of my clothing.

"Drink," he said, handling me a miniature bottle of water. The cap was already off. I had zero interest in hydrating right now but I couldn't disobey him, not when he was staring at me expectantly. So I drank. Aware of his eyes on me, I drank all of it.

Kalix closed the rest of distance between us with what seemed like a single stride, gripping me by my arms and lifting me onto the desk. The easiness of it for him, the strength of his grip on me, caused my hole to seize violently, spitting copious amounts of wetness. The empty water bottle fell from my hands, forgotten as he nudged my legs apart with his body and slotted himself between them, reaching down to fist his hands in my shirt. His close proximity was both a balm and a lit match as he dragged me closer, bathing me in the scent of expensive cologne and alpha—our mouths clashed at long last, his lips crushing over mine with no hesitation or gentle prelude.

Perfect. I parted voluntarily for him, sounding ragged whimpers that matched the rough rhythm of the kiss. My hands sought out his shoulders, clinging to their broadness as if for dear life as his tongue fucked every square inch of the inside of my mouth, sending jolts of what felt like white-hot electricity zinging through my blood.

Amidst the haze of lust and confusion was the dim knowing that professionalism had officially been lost for the both of us—there was no coming back from this, I knew. In that moment, I didn't care. Later, I would be sorry. Mad, too. Oh, I'd be fucking furious. At myself. And him. Him definitely. But right now … I just needed this, needed him. I would let him pick my bones clean and devour me whole.

Almost as if hearing my thoughts, Kalix threaded his fingers into my hair, pulling on the soft strands to tilt my head and deepen the already all-consuming kiss. I was only vaguely aware of him undoing the last of the fucking shirt buttons, his strong hands extricating me from the garment with a gentleness that underscored the blood welling in my mouth, his eyeteeth scraping along my tongue. Pain and all, my body responded instinctively to his dominance, my small frame melting against his large one, becoming as compliant as a doll as his hands roved, first to cup my bare bottom, canting my hips up.

"You said you've never—" he growled words into the kiss, some sort of questioning statement. My thighs fell wide and I felt a shiver seize through me, the cool air swirling over my sensitive cock. "You've never done—"

"Anything. Never done anything," I gasped out.

I felt absolutely bereft when Kalix pushed me back all of a sudden, gripping my slim thighs roughly. He squeezed them and I moaned loudly, tossing my head back to accept suckling, biting, bruising kisses under my jaw, along my pulse, over the jutting bone of my clavicle. If I had thought the way those emerald-green eyes of his had looked at me earlier made me hot, then I was completely ablaze now, flames licking over my consciousness, burning me alive. He dragged a thumb over the sloppy slit between my ass cheeks and my entire body seized, pumping out more slick until I could feel it puddling under me. It had to be dripping onto the floor, oozing

"You're so fucking wet," he murmured almost reverently against my sweat-dampened skin. "Does that feel good?"

"More. Please. Yes. It f-feels so g … mmmmghhhh!"

I couldn't not cry out as he obliged my request for more, sliding a digit inside me. I had never been penetrated there before and I wondered why not—it felt like dying and being made alive again. I arched my spine off the desk and thrust my hips, chasing after the unfamiliar sensation. I was generously rewarded when Kalix's finger slid all the way in, knuckle-deep. Oh, fuck.

Another finger slid in alongside the first one, then another, scissoring me open and stretching me wide with relentlessness. He crooked them at the joint and I gasped, feeling myself clench desperately around their thickness. They started to move and I moved with them, trying to time my hips with their back and forth, panting my mouth half-open and eyes half-shuttered against the spiking pleasure. My cock dribbled faster with every stroke, my starving hole quivering around the in and out motions. I was leaking at both ends. So fucking wet. It felt so good, so so good, I could've sobbed with it, but it wasn't enough, I needed ..

"Alpha," I whimpered helplessly, opening my eyes to find him watching me fuck myself on his fingers with shadowed green eyes. "I need … please, I need—"

"What do you need, Shiloh?" he asked me, a ghost of a smirk pulling his mouth up at the corners. The bastard. Was he teasing me? I couldn't take it if he was, I would die.

I searched for the word, to tell him what I needed but I couldn't find it. More of what he was doing to me, but how to say it? Frustration bit at me and I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. They threatened to spill over even as his fingers curved inside me, massaging over something that made my balls tighten and a half-sob tear from my throat.

God, what the fuck was that? White-hot pleasure ripped through me. My entire body went ramrod-stiff. I was coming, my hole spasming, my cock jerking and shooting thick white ropes onto my stomach. I wanted to ask him what the fuck that something had been but when I opened my mouth, all I could say was— "More. More. More more more—" I was fucking babbling, even after the orgasm. He twisted his fingers inside me, seeming to relish the filthy-sounding squelching noise they made, before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, licking the white mess from them with slow, deliberate laps of his tongue. His hot gaze searing me.

Watching him, my brain felt like it was fucking short-circuiting, my body overheating. He looked like he wanted to eat me and I opened my mouth to tell him that he could, lifting my arms to reach for him and he leaned into me, swallowing whatever I would've said with his mouth, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path against mine.

With his opposite hand, he tightened his grip on the thigh he'd been squeezing and bade it to curve around his waist as he crowded closer, kissing me. I wound my arms around his neck and licked up into his mouth, tears rolling faster with shame and desire as I tasted myself on his tongue. God, it was so filthy, so gross, but I liked it. Loved it.

"Ssssh. I know, I know. I know what you need. I'm going to give it to you." Somewhere along the way, he had taken his cock out of his trousers and I hadn't even noticed, swept away in the blaze of lust. But I noticed it now, felt more than saw its huge length as he caged me between his arms on the desk, running the wet tip of something huge running over my soaked, stretched hole. "I'm going to take such good care of you, Shiloh .."

Take care of me. Take care of me. Take care of me.

"Tell me if this is it, if this is what you need …" His voice trailed off into a muttered curse as he breached me finally, pushing the head of his swollen dick past the slick ring of my entrance. My arms went slack around his neck, dropping to find something to grab, anything to keep me from fucking combusting with the overwhelming sensation of him sliding inside me. His fingers had stretched me to what I thought had been impossible limits but I knew now that they could've spent forever inside me and it still wouldn't have been enough to prepare me for the hugeness of his cock.

I tossed my head from side to side, panting, eyes open but unseeing. "That's it," I moaned. "That's it, fuck. More."

I thought I heard him laugh but I couldn't be sure. Something seemed to snap within him in the next moment, as if he'd finally reached the limits of a control I hadn't known he was holding onto. He pulled me up off the desk in a sudden movement and my body thrummed with a primal satisfaction as I felt the whole of him, every inch, seated fully inside me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, tangling my hands in his hair and tugging, seeking out his mouth mindlessly. I found it, opening wide for his tongue. I was dimly aware of him taking a short stride—his cock inside me, God—and then I was fighting him not to break the kiss as he put me down on something—the desk again, I realized. He flattened me completely, running his hands over my taut abs and up over my chest, tweaking my nipples with the same fingers he'd stuffed inside me. They became tight little peaks, little stabs of pleasure, and I moaned, losing the fight to stay wrapped around him.

Good thing, too, because he dropped his hands to grip at my hips and started to fuck me in earnest—true earnest, sparing no quarter for my small little body against his big one, burying his cock deep and my existence narrowed to the feeling of him inside me. The sensation of being impaled over and over again, him stuffing me with his cock, was fucking intoxicating and I became completely lost to it, only vaguely aware of myself babbling incoherent noises and half-sentences of need.

I tried to lift my hips and rock into each thrust, but Kalix was fully in control and I lost the ability to even think properly when he pushed in particularly deep, angle just right, his cock hitting a spot that made me throw my head back and shout. That something from before … As if he knew, he made that his target, maintaining that same angle. I couldn't remember if it had been minutes or hours but I didn't care if we did this forever. I was so full, I couldn't imagine ever not being this full again. Oh, fuck. Oh, God.

I was going to—

Kalix's voice came from somewhere above me, low and strained. I struggled to comprehend what he was saying, trying to reconcile my sense of hearing with the way my entire being felt like it was coming apart. I realized that he was breathing hard and fast, just as lost in his rut as I was in my heat. "I'm gonna knot you," he was growling past clenched teeth. "I'm gonna fill you up with my cum and knot you. Give you what you need."

The word knot was vaguely familiar, a vestige of recognition tugging at me but I couldn't chase it down and instead gasped out my approval, fingers clawing ineffectually at the sleek surface of the desk beneath me. It slipped away from me as he pulled me closer still, deeper, half off the desk again so I could wind my legs around his waist. His thrusts became more wild, more erratic and my balls started to tighten again, just like earlier, in preparation for—they were going to do it together, oh fuuuuuck

The world around me seemed to disappear with the force of my second orgasm and I was so loud that I refused to believe that the entire building couldn't hear me. Someone definitely had to hear Kalix: he fucking roared as he buried himself in my ass, drenching my guts with hot gushes of seed. My thighs clamped around his waist in a viselike grip, clinging to him in an effort to anchor myself as the edges of my vision went completely gray and cum shot out from my cock to paint my chest with milky white ribbons. For a moment I felt as though I was floating, suspended in pure fucking bliss. His roar faded to a satisfied groan and it was all I could do to gulp the air between us, my ragged breaths filling the silence.

I was all too aware of how he was crammed to the hilt inside me and that's how I felt it: an immense, growing fullness that began to swell at the base of his cock. A surge of panic swept over me. My breath caught in my throat and I opened my mouth to ask what the fuck was that when the answer came to me almost immediately on its own, like an inner sigh of relief. Knot.

Kalix was knotting me. He had said he would.

I'm gonna fill you up and knot you, Kalix had said. I remembered now what I hadn't been able to earlier: they had taught us in school about knotting, a process that was to ensure the transfer of genetic material. Getting knotted meant you were as good as pregnant.

Fuck, it hurt. I whined and started squirming, as if to get away but Kalix's strong grip held me firmly in place as the immense pressure continued to build, painful and foreign. I felt the stretch, the way my soaked hole twitched and fluttered to accommodate its sheer size. It was locking us together. Holy fucking shit. "Oh my God."

In the next instant, as the knot matured to its full size, whatever thoughts I had of trying to get away vanished, my trepidation washed away by a feeling of intense pleasure, underscored by an inexplicable, primal thrill. Everything else that had came before paled in comparison to this, this feeling of being completely filled, utterly taken.

It went beyond the physical act. This was what satisfied my heat, I realized dimly, awash in intense ecstasy and contentment. Kalix had pulled me against his chest and I was aware of his heartbeat, his still-fast breaths, the low growls of pleasure in his throat. I felt satisfied.

It was fucking insane. All of it. And yet, as the minutes passed, despite everything, I found myself relaxing into the alpha who held me, my body adjusting to the fullness. Like coming down from a high, a soothing afterglow settled over my mind and I didn't think about the interview I had quite literally fucked up.

So imagine my shock when Kalix's voice sounded in my ear, a low, possessive murmur : "Congratulations. You're hired."

❥ ❥ A/N ❥ ❥

I decided to revisit this and make it a proper oneshot! I hope you enjoy it. If you like it, please review and I may consider adapting it into a series - let's just say I have some ideas for a corporate a/b/o universe, where Shiloh and Kalix fight their attraction to one another while working together at AME (spoiler : they lose) and a HEA. Hopefully all the heat in this oneshot makes up for everyone who was frustrated with the original writing, haha.